All These Years
by VeritasVamp
Summary: An alternate storyline to the ending of S3, "The Wolf Shaped Bullet." Annie, George, and Nina have some serious decisions ahead but how will they affect Mitchell? All characters belong to TW and the BBC. I just write here. All errors are mine. My own... And SO MUCH THANKS goes to Fleem for being an awesome beta reader and editor!
1. Oh my

**Chapter One: Oh My...**

"Stand up," he sobbed. The words doubled for an agreement.

Mitchell felt a tremendous weight lift from his shoulders, the weight of fear, of terror. Still kneeling, he tilted his chin downward and sighed. _Good, faithful George…_ Tears fell from his best friend's eyes as Mitchell finally stood. Nina and Annie wept nearby. It stunned Mitchell. He never expected this, to be grieved, not after everything he'd done, after all he had caused. Words, memories had been assaulting him for days now, for years really.

_"Do you have any idea how inadequate that sounds?!"_

"Oh god… Is this really happening?" Again, George barely got the words out past his tears.

Mitchell felt himself relaxing. Unnecessary breaths started to come easier now. Just the promise of freedom, the stake in George's hand, was such a relief._ I will never kill again, never…_ The tears that followed were not from the despair that had held him so firmly before. Nodding to George, Mitchell added his hands to the one that gripped the stake.

_"I want to tear your spine out through your mouth…"_

"This is a good thing you're doing." Mitchell's voice was raw from pleading.

Mitchell assured his best friend he had lied with all the horrible things he had just said. It hurt Mitchell to see them crying, but he allowed himself the luxury of this goodbye. He remembered telling Annie once, all those years ago, _you're lucky, not everyone gets a chance to say goodbye._ He had laughed at her reply; "_I know, but fucking hell!"_ He just never expected to have the chance himself so he savored it ignoring the feeling of guilt. _I don't deserve this._ Slowly, Mitchell let the realization settle in. This was it. _After all these years, finally…_

_"But if you don't know what's there, then why the hell are you going?!"_

_"Because it's an end."_

"I guess I'm finally doing the decent thing," he said.

Mitchell held George's hand that held that lethal piece of wood. It was all so solid now, so immediate. The terror felt distant and inconsequential. Then, even Nina graced him with kind words. She promised to remember him as he was in this moment, making the right choice – finally – to die. Die to save the world, or at least someone, from him. Mitchell felt ready. He saw Nina shift uneasily, looking to George. Then he was given one more surprise in a gesture of, what was it? Forgiveness?

_Annie_.

_"I kissed you once, do you remember?"_

She touched his arm, face soaked in tears. Stepping between himself and George, she caressed his face, pushed his hair back out of the way. _Oh god, Annie…_ And she kissed him. Mitchell could hardly believe it. He never expected to be allowed such a beautiful moment. He remembered that farewell from years back, as her Door stood looming behind. _"Don't kill anyone…"_ A pang of deep regret seared through him. _Jesus, why… But he didn't question further. "This is what I am..." _Vampire. And the vampire won.

_What can I say to her? I need her to know, to understand…_ The words just came.

"You were the love of my long life."_ You were…_ And he realized he had already accepted his fate. This is it…

_Because it's an end…_

"And you were the love of mine."

Another wave of comfort ran through him. Never did he expect to be loved. And never to hear Annie confess this after all that he'd done. Maybe it was the heightened emotions talking, but Mitchell believed her. He knew he could trust her, always. _Dear, constant Annie. Why didn't I see it sooner,_ he lamented;_ she could have saved me. Not Lucy. Oh god, Annie, I will miss you…_

"Thank you," he said to her, not thinking that it might be a strange response. He extended the gratitude, adding, "You made me human."

Then he started crying again, a mix of the sadness in knowing he'd never see them again and the fear of what, or who, may await him on the other side. _If I get another side to this life…_

He closed his eyes. In a brief flash Mitchell saw a familiar face staring back at him with that twisted smile. That man. From years ago, standing at the end of corridor, surrounded by men with ropes. It was last face he saw before he woke as vampire. Mitchell shuddered. _Are you there, still?_

_"I'll be waiting, Johnny boy. See you later…" The laughter was a throaty cackle._

Mitchell released a ragged sigh and searched for the necessary courage. _This, this is why I needed you George…_ "Let's do this…" He breathed harder now. It didn't help. The fear had become the dominant emotion. Suddenly, strangely, he remembered Lauren. The girl who got hay fever and was afraid her parents would find out she smoked… She had done this before him. Mitchell had saved her, the way George was about to save him.

He echoed her dying words, "Oh my…"

George raised the stake. Mitchell had to force the vampire in him to not fight back, to not retaliate.

_Let George do this._

_"I'll show you retaliation…"_

_No. Let him._

_Here it comes…_

A voice interrupted like a knock on the door. Confusion replaced dread as Mitchell began working out who it might be. _Oh god, please, not him_… His wish was not granted.

Wyndam strolled through the front door into the house as if he owned the place. Annie demanded to know who he was, but he ordered Mitchell, _John_, to answer. The fear that shook Mitchell to the core was evident as he obeyed.

"His name's Wyndam." He all but whispered through that fear, "He's one of the Old Ones…"

_"Retribution is coming from across the sea."_

Wyndam made a show of sticking a reprimanding finger in Mitchell's face. Mitchell felt the chill of dread and terror sink in. He noticed his friend's tears had stopped flowing as well. All were silent before Wyndam, trying to gauge the situation. Mitchell alone knew that no matter how bad they assumed the circumstances to be, they would be wrong. It's far worse than they could ever guess.

_They are all so, so young. They haven't seen what I've seen. Yet._

George spoke the way he would have to Herrick. As he compared familiar vampire to the intruder, the Old One froze in indignation. George backed away slightly as Wyndam moved in close to him. Mitchell stepped in, shielding George from a wrath he could not have anticipated. The look he gave his best friend was a severe, unspoken warning. He knew George had never seen him like this before; _that will help get the point across_.

"He doesn't mean it, Wyndam. He doesn't know who you are."

He backed off and Mitchell finally saw the proper fear moving in on George. With dreadful finality, Wyndam's words sealed the terror that gripped Mitchell, talon-like, deep around the heart. The Old One turned away from George and began his systematic explanation.

"This is what's going to happen…"

He spoke as a businessman before a conference table.

"…Mitchell, you're coming with me. I think you're going to come in useful one day, so this…. _martyrdom_ is not an option."

Fighting the push of tears, Mitchell pleaded again. He knew it was pointless, but he at least needed his friends to hear it. He needed them to know. _I don't want to be him again. John_... Mitchell spoke from the despair that had pooled in the pit of his stomach.

"No, please… I don't want that. No, th-this…this has to be the end." He could see George calculating, understanding. _Please George… I'm so scared…_

Wyndam rejected the plea flippantly. He explained all the ways he would use Mitchell. _Attack dog._ The similarity to the vampire insult for werewolves was not a coincidence. Mitchell knew he would be on a very short leash, used, abused.

_Kill. Rampage…_

Wyndam continued to box him in, explaining in gruesome detail what would happen to George and Nina if he resisted. _Crucify_. The Old One circled them, getting in Annie's face, then crossed around behind their makeshift bar. All the while he confidently recited orders and explanations.

Mitchell stayed near George, hoping. Hoping without expecting. "_Trust me, you want me out of the picture…"_

Wyndam passed out of eyesight for a moment. Good, faithful George took up the discarded stake and held it high. _Oh please…_

_"It's all so inevitable."_

Wyndam smirked at the stake. "Oh George. Really?"

Then something happened that stunned them all, especially Wyndam.

Mitchell threw an arm up to shield himself from a bright spray of sparks as every bulb flared and ruptured at once. The house, the entire house, began shaking. Pitch black was replaced by a ferocious deep-blue light. Mitchell was astonished to realize the light came from Annie. It _was_ Annie. Her words from weeks ago echoed in his memory. _"You have no idea how strong I am!"_

All eyes were on Annie and none without fear. Even Wyndam's face betrayed uncertainty. He hadn't calculated this burst of force. "_I think you're more powerful than you imagine_," he had said.

"You're _not fucking_ taking him!" Annie raged.

A whirl of unnatural wind suddenly ripped through the sitting room, with Annie and her friends at the calm center. Only Wyndam was affected. It pushed him back and pelted him with the debris gathered by the whirlwind. Rage flooded across the Old One's face, "You _will_ rejoin us Mitchell!" He had to lean into the gale, "We will _find_ you and make you _watch_ as we pluck the flesh off your little dogs!"

Mitchell looked to Annie. He saw her ice-blue eyes narrow. Her hand raised and, with the smallest flick of her wrist, Wyndam lost his hold on the ground. The angry wind launched him up and around, past Nina, sending him through the bay window in an explosion of glass and splinters. They never saw where he landed, but it couldn't have been nearby.

For the first time, Mitchell looked at Annie with fear-widened eyes. He had given George that look many times, all on transformation nights. But Annie… _"I killed a vampire,"_ he remembered her words. _"I rammed a stake through his back."_

She looked at George, commanded, "Go out the back." George still gripped the stake as he and Nina moved toward the kitchen. The wind died down for them, but the house still shook on its foundations. Annie's eyes met Mitchell's.

_"They're afraid of us,"_ he had said to her.

_"They should be."_

Mitchell watched, holding his breath, as Annie placed an immaterial hand on his shoulder. An electric tingle spread through him. What happened next surprised and confused him. Annie was no longer in front of the crumbling wall, and neither was he. They were outside, all at once, standing in the garden where George and Nina had emerged. They were equally surprised to find Mitchell staring back at them.

_I never knew you could do that, Annie…_

George regarded Annie and Mitchell, then peered through the window at the empty sitting room. He looked back, the question on his lips, but it was never asked. Interrupting, two black-eyed vampires surged forward, fangs bared.

Mitchell's eyes were still on George when the stake was ripped from his hand. It tore through the air past Mitchell's face, smashed through the chest of the first vampire, and turned sharply to erupt through the second vampire's chest from behind. Both were dust before they hit the ground.

Annie turned again to Mitchell. Her eyes were ice and he had yet to breathe.

"Take us to your car."

Mitchell nodded, obeyed. Nina supported her pregnant belly with one hand and clutched George's with the other. They followed close behind, their fear mixed with shock. Only Annie didn't look back at the resonating sound of Honolulu Heights collapsing in on itself, leaving nothing more than a billowing cloud of brick-dust.

Annie had already stopped emanating the blue light, but her eyes remained changed.

_I think about who and what I love, and I think about them in danger and,_

_I could tear this bloody house down with my teeth!_

_You have no idea how strong I am…_


	2. And Then What?

**Thank you for the favs and follows! Again, much thanks to Fleem for being an fang-tastic beta reader! Some harsh language ahead - the characters are a bit stressed... All errors are my own. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Two: And Then What?**

They had driven through the night, with George at the wheel of Mitchell's car. Annie sat beside him as navigator despite Nina's apparent reluctance to join Mitchell in the backseat. Mitchell, however, crowded the corner behind George, arms folded over his chest. He seemed oblivious to Nina's occasional tense glances, face set hard in introspection.

Leaving Barry had been an unceremonious event. Annie had simply told George to head into England then go north. Under the circumstances George kept off the motorways. It only seemed natural, though natural was far from anything George expected to experience again. Watching Honolulu Heights crumble into ruins had affected him in a way he hadn't quite processed yet.

By the time dawn tinted the sky with a dark blue George felt his nerves were settled enough for breakfast. His eyes were like cotton balls and he wanted to splash cold water on his face.

George broke the longstanding silence, "I'm going to pull off to find food."

"We're making good time George. We should keep going." Annie spoke without taking her eyes from the road, yet George could have sworn they were still that icy blue color.

"Annie, I need to wee and I think Nina should eat. We've the baby to consider." He accompanied the statement with a look that implored for reason. When she turned to acknowledge George his suspicion was confirmed. Her shining blue eyes met his.

"Fine, yeah, that's fine George. Sorry."

It hadn't taken him long to find a little 24 hour café. He mused to himself that it was much like the one he had worked at back when he first met Mitchell. He assumed now was not the time to mention that to Nina. George parked opposite the café and waited a moment in silence, mustering the courage.

He looked in the mirror out of habit, though Mitchell's reflection was absent. "Did you need anything, Mitchell?"

Mitchell's shook his head then seemed to realize that wouldn't be seen. His voice was rough and distant, "No." Then added, "Thanks."

George caught a glimpse of Nina preparing to say something to Mitchell, but then she stopped herself. Though she remained silent, George knew by her expression that it weighed on her heart. It was the look she had when she confessed to reporting on Mitchell about the Box Tunnel Massacre.

They walked across the street together, leaving Annie alone with Mitchell.

* * *

Mitchell hadn't moved a muscle since relinquishing the driver's seat to George. He hadn't argued when Annie demanded George drive. Actually, he hadn't spoken at all. He just sat and kept his thoughts to himself. He had been aware of Nina's glances, yet remained locked in his own world. But sitting in silence now, Mitchell found it difficult to remain focused on his own problems. Especially with Annie sitting as if alone, arms folded and unmoving in the front seat. His mind wandered to her.

_"It spreads, Mitchell! What you've done has contaminated us all!"_

Mitchell winced at the sound of Annie's voice in his mind. He looked at her again, still staring out the windscreen, lost in thought.

"Annie," he started, voice cracking.

Instantly tension spread across Annie's shoulders, down her back. She held up a finger without looking back. The gesture, Mitchell understood, was meant to silence him. She didn't want to talk. Willing enough to comply, he looked down at his hands.

_"Mitchell… You do know that we can't go back to the way we were. You know, the four of us, friends. Lovers…"_

_We can't go back. I _do_ know that._

Annie still didn't move more than to look down at her own hands. The action had mirrored his, though Mitchell knew she hadn't noticed. At a different time he might have smiled. This time George's voice invaded in his mind.

_"You killed all those people. You don't say my name, now. You don't even look at me now. You are not my friend. You better go."_

_"Then I saw the look of contempt on my best friend's face, and I knew this had to stop."_

Despite all that had happened since that moment, Mitchell felt the weight of his words even more. _Nothing has changed_, he thought. _I shouldn't be here… _He shifted slightly where he sat and looked out across the street. He could see George's face as he sat opposite Nina. The waitress had just set their order down and was refilling George's coffee.

_Annie's tea_.

The sight of the coffee set off a rush of images in Mitchell's head; all having to do with George and Annie and her tea.

All but one.

_"Black coffee. No sugar. Just a splash of cold water from the tap… Hello Josie…"_

Then he remembered the taste of her blood. His chin dropped. He pressed gloved hands against the tears filling his eyes.

* * *

The waitress refilled his coffee without saying a word and left them again. Nina was resting her head in one hand, staring at her eggs and toast without moving. George likewise made no move to start eating. Instead he spoke in hushed tones, holding his coffee but not drinking.

"We'll figure something out, Nina. We still have some time before the baby comes."

His voice lacked conviction and Nina didn't respond at first. After the delay she spoke with a ragged, tired voice. "Actually, George, that isn't what's bothering me."

The response seemed absurd to George. "Wh-what? Then what is?"

"Mitchell…" The name came in her exhale. "Oh God, George…"

George's back stiffened and he pushed himself away from the table, settling back in the booth. "Bloody brilliant," he said, sarcastically. "We are effectively homeless, running for our lives from the oldest vampires in the world, and you're worried that we should have staked Mitchell."

"No," Nina cried, "No, George. I'm glad we didn't. Jesus, I'm so…"

Nina stumbled for words. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, though she appeared not to notice. George just stared at her unable to form a reply. She sat back against her side of the booth and found George's eyes.

"Killing him would have been wrong. I should have stopped you then, but Wyndam interrupted. "

"Nina, I… I don't understand. Out of all of us, you have had the most problems with him. You were only uncertain about killing him before because it was me that had to do it."

"I know, I know. But, George, I…" She took a moment to gather herself. Then, "When Herrick reappeared and we took him home, Mitchell… Well, you agreed to stake Herrick. And I said…"

George interrupted, "That I had stood there in the kitchen and agreed to murder."

"Yes."

"But I changed that. I stopped Mitchell. I hit him. Threatened him, Nina. I disowned him…"

"I know. I'm not criticizing that George. What I'm trying to say is, I did that. I stood in the kitchen with you and Annie and agreed…"

She swallowed hard against a new swell of emotion. George's expression softened, realizing. Nina tilted her chin down and more tears spilled.

"I'm such a fucking hypocrite, George…"

George leaned forward and put his hand out. Nina managed a brief smile at the gesture and put her hands in his. He spoke calmly.

"You saw the state of him and he said… He said the vampire won. He had given up. He…" And then George's tears started. "You saw how he begged, Nina. What were we suppose to do?"

"I know…" Nina's voice was small. "But it's been going round in my head all this time. I've always had a problem with Mitchell, you know that."

George nodded and let her continue.

"I thought it had to do with old stuff, things from before I met you. I just thought he reminded me of bad times. Then, after… When I…joined this lifestyle… I blamed him, George. I blamed him because it was easier than blaming…"

She stopped, but George's eyes reflected the pain of guilt. Nina swallowed, shook her head, and went on.

"But I've been thinking about it. The night it happened, he was there. When you pushed me back, Mitchell kept me from hitting the wall. Instead, he did. And after, he gave me his jacket and talked to me. While you were raging away in the isolation room he and Annie explained about…all of it."

Nina gripped George's hand, her tears subsiding some.

"He knew before I did that I was a wer… He knew and he waited for me to get home with Annie. Oh God, George, he had been so supportive all along. But I was so angry and caught off guard."

"That was all natural, human reactions, Nina."

"Was it? Because I don't know, George. I really don't. When you met Mitchell, he had saved your life. You had been part of this world for six months already."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Nina gauged the distance of other patrons and spoke quietly. "Because, you said, vampires and werewolves don't like each other. But he was always trying to be helpful. I think the werewolf in me just didn't like him. There were times when, I didn't understand why, but I just wanted to tear him to pieces the way I saw you do to Herrick…"

Again, she stopped. She closed her eyes and her head tilted forward. George's eyes were fixed on her, processing all she had said.

"So," George started, "You've forgiven Mitchell? What about all those people he killed? I'm not saying we should have killed him, but do we do nothing?"

Nina looked across the table as new tears stung her eyes. "I don't know…"

* * *

_"There was this…cancer… between us and you let me love you."_

Her voice had carried so much pain and Mitchell had to press his lips down against the start of more tears. He tilted his head back and rested it against the seat and stared into the streetlight overhead. Mitchell felt the tears fall from the corner of his eyes. He did nothing to dry them.

_"I'm going to kill again. We all know it… Because I have to. And because there's a part of me that wants to."_

_Nothing has changed…_ Mitchell relaxed his hands into his lap. A calm decision was forming in the back of his mind. Just the thought sent a wave of comfort through him.

_"I'm so scared. It's going to be another train next time. Oh Jesus, or a school… Please George, you have to stop me. And if you can't do it for me, then do it for them."_

Mitchell tried to remember where the stake was. He remembered Annie using it on the two vampires in the back garden and realized it must have been left behind. It frustrated him a little, but his mind wandered to the contents of the boot of his car. _There must be something,_ he thought.

"I've made a horrible mistake."

It took a moment for it to register that Annie had finally spoken. He raised his head.

"What?" He asked as if he hadn't heard her.

"I'm so bloody stupid." Her voice was low and controlled, yet she remained staring straight forward.

"You had to get us out of there, Annie. We'll find another place to live." Mitchell meant to be comforting, but the words felt disconnected, distant, as if someone else were saying them.

"I don't mean about the house, Mitchell."

Mitchell sat forward more, suddenly uncertain of where this delayed conversation was heading. She turned her head to look at him, just for a moment. Hard, icy-blue eyes locked on him.

"I should have been sure about Wyndam." She turned away, "I should have staked him where he stood."

Mitchell let out a slow exhale and sat back.

"It was so fucking stupid…"

_"And I killed a vampire. I've never so much as swatted a fly and I rammed a stake through his back... It spreads, Mitchell…"_

Mitchell couldn't think how to respond.


End file.
